I am slowly starting to furnish my imaginary home. I’m not sure where I’ll place my new desk, but I had to get it. Bachelard in The Poetics of Spacewrote something about that when we think of home, we have an idealized imaginary home in our minds, and if we try to leave this place to have it built, it moves into the area of a psychological project. Can’t you imagine running your fingers along my desk’s lovely curves? Opening a drawer for a paper clip? I think my little lap top fits nicely. I must find a chair, sit up straight, and not cross my legs.